


900 Squids Under the Sea (And A Kraken)

by velvetcadence



Category: X-Men: First Class (2011) - Fandom
Genre: Charles Is a Big Dorkface, Courtship, Crack Treated Seriously, Erik Logic Is The Best Logic, Erik is Crushing Harder than a 12-year Old Girl, Erik is a Big Dorkface, Fairy Tale Style, Fluff, Happy Ending, M/M, Marriage Proposal, Oblivious Charles, Romance, Smitten Erik, Steampunk, kraken - Freeform, squids
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-27
Updated: 2014-01-27
Packaged: 2018-01-10 06:09:59
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,385
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1156061
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/velvetcadence/pseuds/velvetcadence
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Kurt Marko wrote to all the lands that there was none so fair as his stepson Charles. Only the bravest and cleverest who could pay with 900 squids could win his hand.</p><p>Erik's going to do even better—a kraken costs /at least/ 9000 squid, right?</p>
            </blockquote>





	900 Squids Under the Sea (And A Kraken)

**Author's Note:**

> James auctioned himself off last year and the highest bid for a long time cost 900 quid. The next logical step was to fic it—with 900 squid.
> 
> Dedicated to the naughty ppl over at Skype. You know who you are.

Once upon a time, Kurt Marko wrote to all the lands that there was none so fair as his stepson Charles.

Everyone who had eyes agreed, and even those who didn’t also agreed, for Charles was not only beautiful and pleasing to see, but kind and pleasing to hear as well. Visitors far and wide knocked upon the door of Kurt Marko, begging to court the handsome youth. Even princes and princesses from kingdoms across the oceans journeyed to win the hand of Charles, having heard of songs and hymn about his beauty.

Charles, however gifted in face and voice, did not grow to be vain or selfish. He pitied his suitors, for they had to wait all day long at the door of his personal library where he conducted his studies.

He remained painfully oblivious to any and all advances by them. Charles' reputation was a boon in that he was never short on volunteers when he tinkered with the ingenious helmet that allowed the wearer to project his thoughts far and wide. The only drawback to having suitors as experimental labrats was that they all thought of the same thing: it was either waxing poetic about his attractive behind or imagining doing filthy things to said behind. Really, it was all rather annoying.

The one suitor Charles could stand was the handsome fisherman he got his supply of nipple squids from.

-

“Oh, Nip! What shall I do? I can hardly finish my experiments without volunteers.”

The little squid perched on his thumb glared adorably evilly, as if to say, in a very tiny voice, ‘Fear me, you wretched fool!’

Charles continued to pet it, lounging dramatically on his token mad scientist desk. “Kurt is so strict and stingy! And how dare he price me for only 500 squid!”

He was talking about the announcement Kurt had made that he would be auctioning, ahem, offering his dearly beloved stepson’s hand in marriage for a decent sum. Until then, no one could so much as even look at his face. Charles was rather put off that he didn’t fetch for _at least_ 900 squid. Mad genius, and all that.

Nip the nipple squid returned to its tiny soliloquy. ‘I will devour your sinful souls and bring devastations to your oceans! I will crush your spirits with my—mmmm...hoomin, I will spare you because you give the best rubbings.’

Charles continued to sigh and dramatically posture in his library, bored now that nobody was allowed to even look at him unless they had a whole ditch filled with cuttlefish.

-

Erik the fisherman was devastated upon knowing that Charles the Beautiful was on lockdown at Marko’s manor unless one had fetched _at least_ nine hundred squid. He was inconsolable for the rest of the day, thinking of how much richer Charles’ other suitors were compared to lowly fisherfolk.

Despite that, however, none of the princes and princesses really took the time and effort to gather the sheer number of squid that Marko demanded, so one by one, they left the docks and ventured back home, never to be seen again. Erik began to hope, realizing that this test of squids was a test of faith. Gods be willing, he’d win Charles’ hand by the time the week was through, for there was no fisherman as skilled and as swift as Erik.

Just as he reached his decision, however, the sea had been cleared of squids by the other suitors, so that Erik would have to sail very far to find a ripe spot of sea for fishing.

“Are you mad, Erik?” His sister frowned at him, her dress pulled tight enough that there was no question she had ample cleavage to go around. “It’s nine hundred squid. Nine hundred!”

“Have you not seen the fair lad, Emma?” Erik passionately professed. “Charles is worth more than nine hundred squid! With his eyes as blue as cornflower skies…”

Emma sighed and drowned the rest of her drink as Erik continued.

“...lips redder than the rosiest apple and skin as fair as freshly churned cream…”

“Barkeep, another!” Emma burped, stamping the boot of her fabulous heel on the floor in impatience.

“...It’s like the first buds of the red roses of spring.”

“Stop reading my romance novels. And you’re redundant.”

Erik gave her a withering glance. “I want to marry for love, not for money,” he said, eyeing the jewels dangling from her ears and her throat. His sister smirked.

“I love money, so it’s the same thing, sugar.”

“Will you help me or not?”

“For you, darling brother? Sure, why not?” Emma flipped her flaxen locks over her shoulder and proceeded to order another round.

-

The course of true love never did run smooth, however, and soon our brave adventurers began to have doubts as they approached kraken territory. The boat Emma’s husband had lent them was state-of-the art: steam engine, streamlined for speed, the Shaw coat of arms proudly imprinted on the sails.

“Erik, I’m going to ask again: are you sure about this?” Emma raised her voice over the sound of the machine.

“I’m very sure!” Erik shouted, adjusting the brass goggles strapped to his head. The sea surged with a sudden vehemence, and a dark shadow passed under them, the shape like a demon’s eye.

“What’s the plan?” Emma asked.

“I think I’ll just wing it.”

“Erik!” She snapped. Erik shrugged his shoulders haphazardly.

“Supposedly, no one’s caught a kraken and lived to tell the tale.”

“You little shit!”

“Luckily I’m the best at what I do. I’m going to use the Squid Fishing Style that has been passed down the Lehnsherr line for generations!”

“Now is not the time to turn into dad!”

“Now is the perfect time to turn into dad,” Erik said, the sunlight glinting off his shit-eating grin. Emma grimaced, having been subjected to their father’s oft-dramatic and embarrassing monologues in her formative years, Lord rest his soul.

Just then, the kraken emerged from the water like a creature fresh from Hell’s bowels.

-

Emma was certain she was going to die, because her brother was a lunatic in love.

Well. At least she was going to die looking fabulous.

Said brother, meanwhile, had taken to standing at the very nose of the boat and taking in a deep breath, preparing for the performance of a lifetime. Emma clapped her hands over her ears, just in time to block out the Secret Lehnsherr Squid Yodel.

It felt like the world was so stunned by the sheer power of the song even the wind ceased to breathe after the last note.

The kraken’s arms paused from its menacing flopping, only to wiggle in delight in response.

Cuttlefish had the strangest taste in music, admittedly, but it was one weakness the Lehnsherrs were always able to exploit. It proved effective even to murderous-looking squid, which was further stupefied to docility by Erik’s musical ability. Emma had to hand it to him, the kid really did have a pair of lungs on him.

Hopefully a kraken will be enough to appease Kurt Marko’s ridiculous bride price.

-

“What?!”

“I asked for nine hundred squid, not one squid. Your mathematics is atrocious,” Kurt Marko scoffed when Erik arrived at the front door with a giant fishtank.

Erik’s eye twitched, gesturing wildly at the caught kraken. “It’s a giant squid. It’s at least nine thousand squids!”

“One squid is one squid,” Marko insisted.

“I almost _died_ getting this thing!”

“It’s unfortunate you didn’t.”

The kraken waved forlornly from behind its glass.

“What the hell am I gonna do with this?”

“Take it or leave, I really couldn’t care less. Now if you don’t mind, _sir_ ,” the master of the house sneered, “I have a pedicure waiting for me.”

Erik threw his cap down in frustration. As he left the grounds, he peered over his shoulder and spotted the beauteous Charles at the window. The fisherman raised his hand to wave, and when the youth waved back, it was all Erik could do not to have his knees buckling and weeping into the ground, for despite the distance, he could see the red curve of Charles’ smile.

-

“Oh, Nip, look! Erik brought Kurt the most magnificent beast! Now he’s bound to let me go—it must cost at least nine thousand squids!”

The nipple squid cared not for the strange courtships of hoomins, and was busy instead plotting the downfall of all land-dwellers (save for _his_ hoomin. Charles was a pet he could deign to keep.)

“Oh, he’s going home now. How rude of Kurt not to invite him to tea,” Charles said, waving the fisherman goodbye, oblivious as always.

-

“Brother, you are a pussy.” Emma rested her chin on her palm, watching Erik get well and truly sloshed after his courting fiasco.

“I will never know the sweet, sweet taste of his kiss or have him rest his delicate curls on my breast—”

“Oh lord.”

“—or the sonorous quality of his moans as I sip from his lips—

“For all you know, he’d be a snorer.”

“It would be the adorable kind of snoring. Everything Charles does is beautiful and poetic!” Erik declared, slamming his mug down on the bartop.

“One day you’re going to realize that he shits and breathes like the rest of us mortal beings,” Emma mused, the corner of her mouth twitching upwards as Erik swayed in his seat, clearly past his alcohol limit. “But I think that day won’t be today. Come on, Erik, you’ll be staying over tonight.”

“I don’t like your husband,” Erik slurred slightly as his sister hefted one of his arms over her shoulders.

“Then it’s a good thing he’s mine and not yours.”

“Don’t know why he married you. You’re a dirty, dirty bitch.”

“And you’re a smelly cunt.”

Erik grumped as he was assisted into the automobile, but he didn’t protest when Emma directed the driver to the Shaw mansion, passing out halfway into the drive there.

-

By the next morning, Erik was grumpier due to a hangover. His unshaven cheeks itched, and he was positive that he reeked. He felt uncomfortable to be in the opulence of one of Shaw Manor’s guest rooms, but his bed was soft and squishy enough that it was difficult to give a damn. His dear sister had been thoughtful enough to draw the curtains so that the sunlight pierced through his eyeballs and made him hiss at it like an animal.

“Well, it’s about time you were awake,” Emma stated. She had a maid with her holding a tray of breakfast goodies, and the smell wafting from the coffeepot got Erik to poke his head out of his blanket burrito.

“What time is it?”

“Just a little before noon. You should really bathe.”

“I don’t care.”

Emma rolled her eyes and dismissed the maid. “Look, Erik, maybe it’s not worth it.”

“What’s not worth what?”

“Look at you, a grown man! Where is your dignity, your sense of self? You’re crushing harder than a twelve-year old girl and you’re doing nothing about it!”

“It’s a lost cause, Emma,” Erik sighed gustily. “If a kraken can’t sway Marko, what will?”

“One squid is one squid, is it not?”

“That’s what he said,” Erik grunted.

“So if size doesn’t matter…” His sister trailed off.

Erik blinked. Gasped. Dramatically whipped his head up. How could he not have realized sooner? The answer was staring him in the face the entire time. “Nipple squids.”

“Bravo,” Emma applauded, wiping an imaginary tear from her eye. “It only took you so long. So proud.” She sniffed for maximum effect. “And you had to go and fish a sea monster when all you had to do was do what you had been doing all along.”

“Stop teasing me.”

“It’s what I do best.”

Erik retaliated with a hug, and the fact that he was sorely in need of a bath was enough to bring real tears to Emma’s eyes.

-

“...Eight hundred ninety-eight, eight hundred ninety-nine, nine hundred.” Marko stared disbelievingly as he counted the last nipple squid.

“Well?” Erik raised a haughty eyebrow. “Nine hundred squid, as you said.”

“I did. How did you manage to get all these in just three days?”

“Trade secret.” Erik said curtly. Kurt Marko merely looked thoughtful as he ordered a servant to call for Charles.

“You know, these little squids fetch quite a pretty sum outside the borders. Perhaps you and I could come to some sort of agreement.” There was a gleam in Marko’s eyes not unlike a hungry pig’s at the thought of slop.

“You called, stepfather?”

Erik turned, and like a vision haloed by heavenly light, Charles stood before him, rosy-cheeked and smiling his devastatingly red smile.

“My love,” Erik declared, walking right up to his personal space and folding his warm hands over one of Charles’.

“Oh!” Charles exclaimed. He was used to being courted, but never before now had his favorite fisherman even given an inkling that he felt more than friendship for Charles.The gesture caught him off-guard and made him strangely bashful. Nip repeatedly slapped the side of his face with a tiny tentacle, as if to say, 'hoomin, stop that!'

“Mr. Lehnsherr here has come to ask you something,” Marko helpfully interjected, smoothly removing Charles’ pet squid from his person. “It would behoove you to accept his happy proposal.”

Charles blinked and slowly his smile reached his eyes. He nodded with enthusiasm and waited patiently for his suitor to gather his words.

“Charles,” Erik said, and _oh_ how sweet the name sounded from his mouth! “I have loved you ever since the day you literally tripped into my life. I promise to take care of you, to cherish you, to kiss the bruises you earn from reading instead of watching where you walk, and to support your strange endeavors in whichever form they may come. I know I may just be a simple fisherman, but I am willing to go to the ends of the earth and hunt krakens for you. With me you’ll never want for love...or cuttlefish. I vow to love you until the last wave kisses the sand. Will you marry me?”

Charles gave a smitten sigh and eagerly replied, “I will.”

And they lived happily ever after.

**Author's Note:**

> [what Nip looks like](http://25.media.tumblr.com/tumblr_lq330n6yiV1r1nby6o1_500.jpg)


End file.
